


What Do You Fall For?

by ephemeralstark



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Tony Stark, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Explicit Language, Gen, Gun Violence, Hostage Situations, Hurt Peter, Irondad, Minor Character Death, Peter Parker Has a Bad Day, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Tony Stark, The Author Regrets Everything, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Whump, but he will suffer, like im sorry, peter will live, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:21:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21608983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralstark/pseuds/ephemeralstark
Summary: Peter just wanted to buy a Christmas present for Mr. Stark, it wasn't his fault that the exact store he chose happened to be the target for a group of armed robbers.Now he just wants to make it out alive, but he has no web shooters, no suit, and is wounded. Does he risk his life and the lives of the other hostages while fighting for their freedom, or hope for rescue?
Comments: 41
Kudos: 515
Collections: ellie marvel fics - read





	1. Dying is easy

**Author's Note:**

> this is probably going to be a three parter :D

Peter stared at the measly $20 in his hand and sighed, it wasn't enough. He needed to get Mr. Stark a gift that he would appreciate and  _ want,  _ but how could he chose a gift for the man who had everything? If Tony Stark ever wanted something he would just buy it, or rather he would have F.R.I.D.A.Y. order it for him. Either way, Mr. Stark was a billionaire and got what he wanted, meaning that Peter was left clutching $20 and aimlessly walking around New York in search of a worthy gift. 

Somehow he’d ended up on 5th avenue, he wondered if it was obvious that he didn't fit in? People were bustling about with their arms full of bags covered in designer names, and shoes that probably cost more than May’s monthly rent. . 

Then there was Peter, sporting the same jacket that he’d worn the last three winters because money was tight and he didn't want to trouble May with an added expense at this time of year. The handful of notes he was gripping had originally been his lunch money, but he hadn't minded missing a few meals if it meant being able to get Mr. Stark something nice for Christmas.

“Watch where you’re going, Kid!” Peter jumped back, as an angry man with his fists full of festive gift bags stormed through the spot where Peter had been standing. 

Peter felt his breathing speed up a little as he panicked at the unfamiliar situation. He was Spider-Man, he shouldn't feel so out of his depth, he was used to needing to adapt and fit in. He needed to be better. 

“Come on, Peter,” he muttered to himself. 

He was being stupid, he was only out to buy a Christmas present, he was severely overthinking everything. Except, there was a chill running down Peter’s spine and the hairs on his arms were standing upright, normally he would have put it down to the frosty December weather but it was all accompanied by a sour, churning feeling in his stomach screaming at him that something was wrong.

“Don’t just stand there,” someone shouted at him, “fucking moron.”

Cheeks flaming red, he ducked into the nearest store which turned out to be a huge mistake as Peter was instantly spritzed with a musky smelling spray as a woman in a strange dress spoke gibberish at him, he just assumed that she had been telling him the name of the perfume he had been covered in and muttered, “lovely,” as he backed away further into the store. 

Almost everything in the store was locked away behind thick glass windows, probably a testament to their price, and the store was unlike any that Peter had been in before. For one, there was a wide open space without anything advertised, as though he should have just  _ known _ exactly what he needed. Then there was the fact that despite having been assaulted by the perfume lady, none of the glass windows seemed to be hiding any perfumes or aftershaves behind them. 

“Where am I?” Peter muttered to himself as he slowly meandered further into the store, maybe he could wander a little before leaving so that it wasn't obvious how much of a mistake he had made by entering. 

“Can I help you, Sir?” a woman with thick rimmed glasses and a neck tie the colour of an over ripe banana asked. 

“Sir?” Peter squeaked out. He had never been called ‘sir’ before, he was only a teen.. 

The woman smiled sympathetically at him, “you don't even know what we sell do you?” she asked. 

Busted. 

“Is it that obvious?” Peter asked, not even bothering to try and convince her otherwise. He hung his head to hide the burning of his cheeks. 

“Just a little bit,” she admitted, “we’re trained to recognise potential customers and I’m sorry, dear, you don't seem like one for us.”

“Yeah, no, you’re right,” Peter sighed. 

“Well,” the lady said gently, “how about this? I’m having a quiet day, so why don’t I pretend to show you a few things and then you can skaddadle on out of here without anyone else knowing any the wiser?”

“Really?” Peter asked, his head snapping up, “you’d do that?”

“Sure, why not?” the lady asked with a shrug, “maybe you can give me some pointers on my sales technique in return?”

“Alright.” Peter agreed quickly. 

“Oh!” The lady declared in a loud energetic voice that drew the attention of those around them. “What a  _ fine  _ choice, you may be young, but you definitely know what you’re talking about. Someone has taught you well.”

Peter grinned at her and she sent him a wink.

“Now, my name is Jane and I’ll take you through all the options we have for you today, Sir,” she said, her voice gradually getting louder as people lost interest in his being there. “So, kid, why are you actually here?”

“I’m looking for a Christmas present for my mentor,” Peter said, “only I have no idea what to get him. As you know I came in here by accident, and I doubt you have anything anywhere close to my price range, but, yeah.”

He shrugged slightly as he explained. 

“Alright, this mentor of yours, you close?”

“I’d like to think so,” Peter said with a small frown, “I mean I started off just as his intern but now I get to work with him on his own projects. He even gave me my own desk in his lab, and sometimes we just order pizza and play pranks on his fiance rather than working.”

“You don't need to wonder anymore, kid, that sounds like you’re close to me.” Jane said. “So, why are you struggling so much to get a gift?”

“Because he has  _ everything _ ,” Peter groaned, “like literally everything. There isn't anything he wants so I don't know what to get him and it feels like no matter what I choose, he’ll probably have ten versions of the thing sitting in a room somewhere.”

“So, intern to a rich guy but you don't get paid enough to buy a decent gift?” Jane asked raising an eyebrow. 

“My pay is fully funded college tuition,” Peter explained before Jane could go on a rant about the unfairness of internships. Mr. Stark wasn't like that, in fact he’d offered to pay Peter to make the lie more foolproof but Peter had refused and told him that he’d find a way to get out of Mr. Stark paying for his degree too. 

“Alright, you sure this guy isn't secretly your dad?” Jane asked with a laugh. “Pranks, kiddie desk in his lab, pizza, and paying for college? That all sounds very dad-like.”

“He’s not my dad,” Peter said rolling his eyes and ignoring the sadness that washed over him when he said that, “he’s just a really decent guy.”

“Okie dokie,” Jane said knowingly, “let’s pretend to show you some things while thinking of an actual gift for dad-boss.”

“Oh my god, you’re just like him.” Peter muttered. 

“So he teases you?” Jane asked. “How fatherly of him.”

“What’s that?” Peter asked, moving her attention to one of the items behind the glass. 

“You don't know?” She asked him.

Peter’s shuffled nervously on the spot, “sh-should I know?” he asked her worriedly. 

“Maybe not yet, when dad-boss starts introducing you to the public, then I will judge you for not knowing. That there is a pure silk jacquard pocket square.”

“Oh,” Peter mumbled, that sounded extravagant, “how much is that?” 

“That’s actually one of our cheaper items,” she said with a grin, “at only $109.99.”

“Huh,” Peter said blankly, “I don’t suppose I could offer you $20 and half a pack of spearmint gum?”

“If only you’d had a full pack of gum,” Jane said, shaking her head. 

“Dang, I knew I should’ve saved it.” Peter said as he glanced around. “So… what exactly do you sell here?” 

“This is primarily a menswear store,” Jane explained. 

“But there’s only a few racks with clothes on, and everything else is locked away in glass cases.” Peter said. 

“Honey,” Jane said pityingly, “It’s  _ Armani.  _ Half of this stuff is worth more than I make in a month.” 

“Right, yeah, I knew that.” Peter lied. 

“Sure you did, so do you wanna try anything on?” Jane asked. 

“Uh no, thanks though, but I feel nervous standing near this stuff, I’d rather not touch any of it.” Peter said quietly. 

Accidentally walking into the designer store had distracted him from his concerns about his Spidey-Sense playing up, but as the smooth jingle of the front doorbell rang out, suddenly the feeling of something being wrong dialled up to a thousand and Peter shuffled uncomfortably on the spot. 

“Hey, uh Jane do-”

“Everyone down on the ground now!” A gruff voice called out. 

Peter whirled around to see that a group of masked people had entered the store, one of them was pulling the doors shut behind him and seemed to be wrapping something around them, a chain? It didn't take long for the facts of the situation to add up in Peter’s mind and the conclusion sent his stomach crashing into the ground. 

Of all the times for Peter to accidentally walk into a ridiculously overpriced store, it  _ had  _ to be the same time as a group of armed robbers decided to also walk in, only Peter assumed that they had chosen that store on purpose, unlike him.

“Down! Now! Don't make me spill blood this early on!” 

“Come on, listen to them,” Peter whispered as he grabbed Jane’s wrist and tugged her down to the cold floor. “Lie on your front and don't give them any reason to look at you.”

He didn’t have his suit, or his web shooters. He had no way to mask who he was or protect the people in the store without putting them at risk. There was one of him and five of them, and he had to assume that their weapons were loaded. 

“Fan out, make sure there’s no one in the back.” The guy said, Peter determined that he was the leader due to the commands that he was firing out. Commands that were instantly obeyed. 

“Now, I want you two to go round and take all the phones off the people on the ground. Check for money too, may as well get what we can.” 

Peter lay on his front watching the mean closely, none of them seemed particularly young or inexperienced, but there had to be a weak link. One of them had to be Peter’s key to helping everyone out. Maybe the guns were just for show, there was a good chance that none of them would be willing to shoot. After all, they’d chosen a store, not a bank, surely that meant they were trying to keep a low profile. 

Peter was hauled to his feet by the back of his jacket, “hey!” he protested feeling the zip cut into his throat and restrict his oxygen and his legs scrambled to bear his weight. 

“Shut it.” he was told, “empty your pockets.”

“I don't have much money,” Peter said, “just $20, but you can have that if you want, I’ve also got half a pack of gum which I’d appreciate keeping but I mean you smell like you need it more.” 

He paid for that one with a fist to his cheek, he staggered on the spot, only the grip on the back of his jacket stopping him from face planting the floor. A metallic taste spread through his mouth and he poked his tongue at his teeth, thankful that they were all accounted for and none of them seemed to be wobbling a concerning amount. 

“Who let a smart ass kid in here?” 

“Doesn't matter,” the boss said, “he’s a kid, he’ll have a phone, take it off him.”

The man did as he was told, fishing Peter’s last defence out of his pocket. He had no suit, no web shooters, and now no phone to alert Mr. Stark about the building situation. 

“Hey this is one of those Stark Phones,” the man said. “These are worth a pretty penny, you sure you don't have more that $20?”

“Why are you asking him? Just search him.”

“Hey, man, I’m not lying,” Peter grumbled as he held his hands up, allowing the search to be done as painlessly as possible. 

_ BANG  _

Peter froze. The hands that were searching him also paused minutely, that shot hadn't been part of the plan, which meant his first assumption was wrong, these men had loaded weapons and were not afraid of using them. 

“What the  _ fuck? _ ” the leader shouted. “Why the fuck are you firing weapons?”

“We’re done for,” the man who was in the back said, “there was a girl back there, when she heard the commotion she called the cops. I cut the line but she’d already given them the address.”

“Shit,” one of the others said, “should we make a run for it?” 

“Too late,” the boss said. “No doubt the cops will be here before we can cut the chain.”

“So what do we do?”

“Play nice and hope for a reduced sentence?” Peter offered. 

The man who had been searching him suddenly grabbed hold of his hair causing pain to shoot through his scalp. He pulled Peter’s face close to his own so Peter could see the spit flying while he was yelled at. 

“Stop. Talking.” 

“I’m just saying, if you can't do the time don't do the- Ow!” 

Peter hit the ground after being hit in the chin by a rather large gun. That hurt, but it was exactly as he had planned. He had an enhanced healing ability, something that the others in the store didn't, which meant it was up to him to keep attention away from everyone else. 

“Bring the little shit over here.” The leader said. 

Peter was once again roughly dragged from the floor, “hey! I can walk, just tell me where to go and I’ll do it. You don't need to be constantly manhandling me.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet kid, now shut that fucking mouth before I put a bullet in it,” the guy threatened. 

“No.” The leader interrupted. “This kid is our ticket to freedom. The police will do anything to ensure a kid doesn't get killed on live TV. He’s the perfect hostage.”

“Live TV?” Peter asked. “What are you a YouTuber? Are we streaming right now? That’s not television, sorry to break it to you like this.”

“Where there’s police and a hostage situation, there are always news reporters.” 

Peter could hear the faint sound of sirens, too far away for a normal person to hear, but slowly getting closer. 

“There’s time,” Peter said earnestly, “you can go, none of us have seen your faces, the police aren’t here yet. You have time to get away and there’ll be no way for the police to find you.” 

“Not so cocky now it’s your head the guns going to be pressed against, are you?” the guy who had shot the woman in the back asked cockily. 

Peter’s stomach twisted with nausea as he listened to the implication. The woman wasn't just injured, she was dead. She had been shot in the head by the sadist beside him. A man who was grinning through the grotesquely cut out mouth of his homemade balaclava. 

“Come on man, she was a person, with a family,” Peter said, “don’t you care at all about that?”

“No.” 

“Peter, please, stop talking.” Jane whispered to him. 

“Peter?” The leader asked. “Is that your name? Well then Peter Pan, if you don't shut up, you’re going to learn how it feels to be young forever.” 

Peter swallowed tightly, these men were serious, he was beginning to feel very much like a stupid child who had walked into a battle far bigger than he was capable of dealing with. 

The sirens were growing louder, their shrill screams piercing his overly sensitive ears making him wish that he wasn't being watched by so many people so he could press his palms into his ears to save his head. 

“Now,” the leader said, “my guys here are going to walk around and tie everyone’s hands behind their back, and the legs at the ankles and knees. You will be moved by my men to the wall and placed in a row. Meanwhile, I will be holding this-” he raised a rather intimidating looking gun into the air, “-against Peter Pan’s head. If anyone struggles, fights, or tries to do anything that will hinder us, the kid dies. No one wants a child’s blood on their hands, do they?” 

Peter was roughly pulled against the man, his back to the guys padded chest. They were all wearing bullet vests, they were more prepared than Peter had thought. 

Peter had had many guns aimed towards him throughout his time moonlighting as a red and blue superhero, but generally all he had to do was shoot a web and yank the gun out of the criminals hands. This was the first time Peter had ever felt the icy coldness of metal pressing into his skin. It was the first time he had been completely at the mercy of the criminal and it was the first time he had failed to save someone. 

He didn't even know who had lost their life. He had no name or face to remember her by, just the memory of a gun shot causing his ears to ring and muscles to stiffen up in horror. 

“No!” A man shouted suddenly, “fuck you guys, no way in hell are you tying me up to join a line so you can kill us all execution style. You can take that gun and shove it up your ass.” 

“Hold him,” the leader shouted shoving Peter towards one of his buddies, this man held him tighter, holding him with his arm around Peter’s neck. 

Another gun was pressed to his skin. Peter wanted to beg and plead for the man’s life, he wanted to defend him and tell the gunmen that he had just been scared and he hadn't meant it, but fear made Peter’s mouth dry up and he didn't want the arm around his throat to tighten any more. 

“No one gets hurt if you comply, well, no one else.” The leader muttered as an afterthought. “Now you’ve caused a commotion, and if you had managed to rile up anyone else you could have caused them to lose their lives. Thankfully they’re smart and they know that compliance is their best chance at survival. You, however, are very stupid. You hurt Peter Pan.”

“What?” The man asked in confusion, looking over at Peter who was uncomfortable and had a smarting face from all the hits, but was otherwise unharmed. “The kid is fine.”

“He was, until you decided to try and save your own skin.” The robber shook his head sadly, as though he really was disappointed in the man. “Go on then Barry.”

_ BANG  _

Peter’s ears rang with the closeness of the shot and for a split ear-ringing second he was sure he was dead. He was almost convinced he had been shot in the head, he could feel the pain and he could hear screaming, and crying. 

Except the pain wasn't coming from his head, it was coming from his leg, and the screaming was him. Peter was the one making all the noise.

His body was being fully supported by the man who had shot him in the leg until it wasn't. Another sharp flash of pain joined the all encompassing agony Peter was feeling as he was dropped to the ground, his cheeks were wet with tears and he wanted to beg for Mr. Stark to save him and get rid of the bad men. 

“Look what you did.” The leader said to the man who had struggled. 

“T-t-that was you.” The man stammered, his face drawn as he watched Peter sob and hyperventilate on the floor. “You’re sick!” 

“He’ll live,” the leader said with a shrug, “well, he will if you listen to what we say and help us get out of here.”

“Alright,” the man said quietly, slowly turning around and holding his hands behind his back so they could be tied. 

“See, if only you had done that in the first place, Peter Pan wouldn't be one step closer to Neverland.” 

Peter curled up in pain on the floor, trying not to focus on the red pool that was staining the white tiles. He was never going to see May again, he wouldn't be able to hug her goodnight or thank her for everything she had done for him. He wouldn't be able to tell her that he loved her and he appreciated how hard she worked to give him everything he had. 

He wasn't going to be able to find the perfect gift for Mr. Stark. 

The sirens were getting louder, so much so that the leader muttered a curse under his breath as they caught his attention. He stomped over to where Peter lay on the floor, hauling him back up by the scruff of his jacket. 

Peter screamed. The pain was so intense that he couldn't manage to hold his own weight up, his legs slipped and scrambled for purchase, leaving red streaks and footprints staining the ground, should he be worried by how much blood there was on the floor? 

Seemingly the leader had the same concern, “Barry, use your shirt and wrap this kid’s wound, we need him alive if we want him to work as an incentive.”

Peter finally managed to support his weight with his good leg, his other one hanging limply and pulsing unrelentingly with pain, barry moved forwards pulling off his jacket and tearing the arm from his shirt without a single complaint. 

“You may want to grit your teeth or something,” he told Peter without any sympathy, “this will hurt a lot.”

Barry’s advice was terrible but he wasn't wrong, Peter gasped for breath as his legs gave out once more. The leader gave up helping to support his weight and Peter went collapsing back to the ground, his chilled blood soaking through the sleeve of his jacket, as he lay sobbing. 

“Stop it,” he gasped out, “just, please stop.”

“How does it feel?” Barry asked with a grin, for a moment Peter was sure the question was directed at himself but Barry then turned to the man who had been refusing to cooperate, “this is a child, and you caused his suffering, if it hadn't been for you then he wouldn't be crying in his own blood.”

“S’not your fault.” Peter gasped out as he tried to get his breathing under control. 

He probably didn't look very reassuring with his pale face and sweaty brow, but he was Spider-Man and it was his job to protect the people of New York, so if that needed to extend outside his neighbourhood then so be it. No one else would be harmed on his watch, especially not by armed idiots who had decided to rob a ridiculously overpriced store. 

The leader seemed to gather all of his goons together to talk tactics, it concerned Peter that they didn't seem to care about being overheard, that meant they were either very sure of themselves or they didn't plan to leave any witnesses behind. 

Peter took advantage of their distraction to start to inch his way over to Jane, stopping when he realised that his movement would leave a very obvious trail behind. 

There was an option. It was a morbid one and the thought turned his stomach ever so slightly, but it seemed to be the only way to communicate. 

He dipped his finger in the blood, it was cold and coated his finger in a fashion that he was sure would haunt his nightmares. Carefully he spelled out two words on the tiles -  _ BACK DOOR?  _

A slight wave that could have been mistaken for him adjusting his position if the gunmen looked over caught Jane’s attention. He glanced at the two words on the floor and back to Jane. Her face turned slightly green as she realised what Peter had resorted to, but she must have realised the urgency and quickly shook her head.

With a frustrated huff, he swiped his hand across the floor, leaving behind a smear of red where the words had been. No evidence of his attempt to plot against them.

“Right,” the leader shouted whirling around, “Peter Pan, up you get, the show is about to begin.”


	2. living is harder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont know how hostage situations work, most of this is from google and watching b99 sorry

“There are three cars and two vans out there, they’re cordoning the street off from pedestrians,” the leader said, “they have no idea what kind of leverage we have in here and they may do something stupid that will get one of you killed, and we don’t want that now, do we?” 

His words were sickeningly kind and understanding, it made Peter want to launch up and punch him right in his smug face. Maybe he would be able to wipe off that stupid grin.

Except his leg hurt almost more than he could bear, and if he was going to be able to save everyone he needed to be smart about his movements.

“Get up, kiddo,” the leader commanded, waving his gun in Peter’s direction. 

“Don’t call me that,” Peter said without thinking, he waited for the blow to fall but couldn't bring himself to regret the words as he wasn’t having some asshole ruin Mr. Stark’s nickname for him. 

The blow never came, thankfully. 

“Whatever you say, Peter Pan.” the leader said thinking that Peter’s complaints were due to the nickname being demeaning, therefore settling for one that he deemed more so. “Now, up.”

“Come on, man,” Peter grumbled. “If you wanted me to stand so much why would you get your goon to shoot me in the leg?” 

“I was actually hoping he’d shoot you in the head so think yourself lucky,” Peter was told. “Now get up.”

His leg seemed to flash white hot with pain every time he moved it, but still, he tried his best to stand. He managed to get as far as his hands and knees, gritting his teeth against the flames that seemed to course up his leg. Was it actually on fire? He wouldn't be surprised. 

“He’s too fucking slow,” another guy muttered as he looked at Peter with something akin to disdain. 

“Well you deal with him then,” the leader snapped. 

“Fine,” the other man stormed over to Peter, carelessly kicking his leg causing him to yell out in pain and fall face first back onto the hard tiles, “whoops, my bad. Come on, time to get up.”

“Would’ve been quicker,” Peter gasped out, touching his lip that had been punctured by his teeth as he fell, “if you hadn't kicked me back to the floor.”

“He’s just such a smartass,” the man said before gripping the back of Peter’s coat and pulling him up. 

Peter couldn't help but let out a pained grunt as he was hauled up to his feet, he was going to have some intense bruises around his neck soon if the men didn't think about another way to move him.

He supposed it was a pretty effective method though, the feeling of his oxygen cutting off was enough to battle through the pain and he eventually managed to hold himself up on his good leg. 

On the plus side he was quickly growing used to balancing on one leg, he supposed that it was going to help him in the long run, if he got out of this situation then he would have a head start on learning how to balance on crutches.

_ If. _

Peter jumped as a loud ringtone sounded, it wasn't coming from any of the phones that had been gathered up by the gunmen though, instead it seemed to come from a phone by the cash register. 

“Showtime boys,” the leader muttered as he sauntered confidently over to where the phone was and picked it up, “‘ello?”

_ “Hello, this is the NYPD hostage negotiator,”  _ Peter heard the woman on the other end say, her voice was steady and sure,  _ “we have reports of an ongoing hostage situation in the building, and I was hoping to speak to whoever is in charge.” _

“I am.” 

_ “Alright, great, now is there something I can call you?”  _ the hostage negotiator asked. The situation was starting to feel very real to Peter and he could feel his pulse speeding up and he felt twitchy with the need to escape. 

How long had it even been? He was sure that time was moving far quicker than it seemed. Maybe he had temporarily blacked out? 

“No,” the leader said, “no names.”

_ “Alright, that’s fine,”  _ the negotiator said,  _ “how about the hostages? How many are there?” _

“Uh,” the leader’s eyes flitted around them all, “nine, three employees and six customers.”

_ “Great, now are any of them harmed?”  _

Peter watched as the leader seemed to bristle under the question, looking anxiously at Peter’s bloodied leg and at the gun that was being held by Barry.

_ “Sir?”  _ the lady continued.  _ “We need to know if anyone is harmed, we need to have the right facilities available to help.” _

“We want safe passage out of here,” the leader said, ignoring her question. “We want to be allowed to leave New York without being followed, we don't want any footage released of who we are and we don't want our families to be blamed for anything we are doing.”

_ “I understand your demands, now first things first, can we speak to each hostage to make sure they’re alright?” _

“No.”

_ “I just need to hear them, find out their names.” _

“I will put you on speaker phone, they can all state their names to you, that’s all you get and in return I want out of here.”

_ “That’s a complicated request, how about you give me names and I make sure that no one tries to enter the building.”  _

“Ok, that will do,” the leader said after a moment of weighing up his options. 

He pressed a button on the phone and a loud static and rustling filled the room.

“You,” the leader said pointing his gun at the man who had fought back, “say your name.”

“Jim Daniels.”

“Alice Reynald.”

“Jane Simpson.”

“Rebecca Leigh.”

“Mark Lewis.”

“Frank Jackson.”

“Luke Markson.”

“Greta Ironside.”

“Peter Parker.”

“There you have it,” the leader said, taking the phone off speaker and pressing it against his ear once more. “Nine people, all alive.”

_ “That last person, Peter, he sounded quite young.” _

“What about it?” the leader asked. 

_ “Is there a child in there?”  _

“Yes, and if we don't get out of here in an hour I’ll put another bullet in him.” 

_ “Another bu-”  _

The leader slammed the phone down so hard that Peter flinched at the noise, his movement made the gunman holding him nervous enough to poke Peter with a gun. 

“What now?” one of the gunmen asked, his question was directed towards the leader. 

“We wait and hope they come back with a deal we’re willing to accept.” 

“Why didn't we ask for any money?” 

“Freedom is more important,” the leader said, “we need to get out of here and the simpler our demands the more likely we are to have them met.” 

“What happens when they find the woman in the back though?” the same person asked. “What about the bullet in that kid’s leg? We are beyond the point of walking away from this without any repercussions, you said you knew what you were doing! We have done this for years, Jones, but the one time we bring you out on a job it all goes tits up.”

“What are you saying?” The leader - Jones - asked. 

“I’m saying you’re done, you have no idea what the fuck you’re doing and why any of us bothered to follow you into this escapes me, we should have done it our way!” 

“Shut the fuck up Steven,” Jones snapped. “You’ve been targeting stupid little convenience stores, barely bringing in anything to make it worth the hit. I was showing you how to bring home the money.”

“You were showing us how to get caught!” Steven shouted. 

“I’m with Steve,” Barry said, “we’ve never had an issue until we brought you out.”

Peter shuffled nervously as they bickered amongst themselves, their group was cracking, which was either going to be great for the hostages or terrible. 

“Fine,” Jones said with a snort. 

He shrugged and walked away from them as though he was going to leave them to it, before whirling around and shooting out two bullets. 

Both landed with deadly precision in their intended targets. 

Barry and Steven crumpled to the ground, landing in undignified lumps, Peter hoped to see some sort of movement but they were unnaturally still, there was no rise or fall coming from their chests, and Peter couldn't stop the tears from falling. Yes, they were terrible people, in fact Barry had been the one to shoot Peter, but seeing them lying on the tiles filled him with sorrow and fear. 

Jones had killed two of his own men. That was… unexpected and worrying. 

There was a brief moment of silence before one of the hostages started to panic and scream. 

“Help! Oh my God, help! Someone please help us, oh God!” 

“Shut up!” Jones yelled, aiming his gun at her instead. Immediately her pleads silenced, Peter wasn't even sure that she was breathing any more, her gaze fixed on the gun. 

“Hey!” Peter shouted at Jones, “why don't you stop aiming that thing at people before you have no hostages left? How are you going to get what you want if you have no incentives or bargaining chips?” 

“Kid, you have no idea how much I want to put a bullet in your head,” Jones shouted, “so why don't you shut up and take advantage of the fact that you’re worth the most to me right now.”

Peter knew he was, that was why he kept talking back to Jones and bringing the attention off of the other hostages and back onto himself. He didn't particularly like having guns pointed at him or feeling like he needed to cut off his own leg to stop the agonising flashes of pain from shooting up it, but he had to be a smart mouth because he could deal with things that the other hostages couldn't. 

The phone started to ring again. Peter wasn't surprised; the gunshots had been loud and there was no way that the police could have missed them. They likely wanted to know what was happening and whether they should storm the place. 

“What?” Jones snapped. 

_ “Hi, it’s just me again,”  _ the hostage negotiator said gently,  _ “I realise that you don't know my name, it’s Kirsten.” _

“I don't give a fuck.” Jones snapped as he paced back and forth, gun in one hand and phone in the other.

_ “Alright, we are a little bit concerned about what is happening in there, we heard two shots go off,”  _ Kirsten said,  _ “now we are working very hard out here but if you’re killing hostages then we’re going to struggle to meet your demands. There needs to be a certain degree of trust in these situations.” _

“You expect me to trust you?”

_ “You have to,”  _ Kirsten said simply,  _ “if you want to leave you have to trust we will honour that once you release the hostages. Those are real people you have in there, we’ve looked them all up and made matches from the CCTV we hacked into.” _

“You hacked the CCTV?” Jones asked. “Why bother asking what’s happening?”

_ “We had to see the situation for ourselves, especially after you mentioned that the kid had been shot.”  _

“I’ll fucking  _ kill  _ the kid!” Jones shouted, “why don't you watch this on your CCTV?”

He laid the phone on the table without hanging up, Peter could hear the frantic plotting and assembling of SWAT teams that Jones no longer could hear.

_ “If any hostages die we storm,”  _ Peter heard someone say,  _ “these people are too unpredictable to reason with, we may have to discuss the very real possibility of losing more people before we save anyone.” _

_ “Not good enough,”  _ A familiar voice said loudly.

Peter was beginning to feel lightheaded due to the blood loss, and while he was trying to focus on what that familiar voice was saying he missed the gun that was swinging at his head. 

The blow took him by surprise as the weapon cracked against the side of his face, making his head spin and his ear smart and ring unrelentingly. He would have ended up crashing to the floor if it wasn't for the gunman supporting his body. 

“I hope they enjoy seeing this short film.” Jones sneered. 

He kicked Peter’s wounded leg, causing him to gasp out in pain and shock, “stop,” he mumbled, even though no one was listening. The blows seemed never ending and all Peter wanted was to curl up in a ball and try to protect himself from some of the hits, unfortunately the man holding him wasn't willing to enable his wishes and kept him in an upright position. 

“Leave him alone,” Jane yelled, struggling against the ropes that bound her. “He’s just a kid!” 

“Looks like you have quite the fan club Peter Pan,” Jones grinned, “how would you feel if it had one person less?”

“No!” Peter gasped out, spit and blood trailing down his chin, “don't hurt anyone else.”

“Aw, he’s such a martyr,” Jones said, ruffling his hair in a sick parody of a comforting gesture, “isn’t that nice of him? He’s willing to sacrifice his own life for yours.”

“Just leave them alone.”

“How about this?” Jones said with a sickening smirk. “How about I put another bullet in little Petey here, and in return I promise not to hurt anyone other than him?”

“No, no way,” Jane shouted, “you can't just hurt him for the sake of it, let him be.”

The other hostages seemed to scared to speak up, Peter wondered if any of them were considering it, maybe they were. He wouldn't hold it against them, they were most likely just trying to figure out how to get home to their families.

“It’s fine,” Peter mumbled, “better me than anyone else.”

“This kid!” Jones screamed. “Do you realise how annoying your self-sacrificial bullshit is? I want to  _ destroy _ you. Like, I don't even just want to kill you at this point, I want to watch you suffer. I want to hear you to beg for your life and then I want you to realise that you will never be free from me, and then I want you to beg for death.”

“That’s extreme.” Peter mumbled. 

“You just don't know when to quit,” Jones said, storming back over to the phone, “bring him here.”

The movement hurt, Peter tried his best to walk himself but he just couldn't keep his feet under himself and they ended up dragging excruciatingly as he was pulled over to the phone. 

“The kid is alive, but if you don't get me out of here soon he won’t be able to get all excited for Santa Claus this year.” Jones spat into the phone. “Why don't you get to know the kid you’re about to kill?”

The phone was pushed against Peter’s ear.

“Hey, Peter?” Kirsten’s soothing voice filtered through the pained fog that was shrouding his brain. 

“Yeah?” Peter mumbled. 

“We’re going to get you out of there, kid, just bear with us.” She promised.

“No, don’,” Peter said, he was starting to feel tired, everything was getting to him. It was all just too much. “I don’ wan’ anyone else to be hurt.”

“We’re going to do our best to avoid that, Peter, now I need you to stay with me.” Kirsten said. “Your Aunt is here with me just now.”

“Can I speak to her?” Peter asked. Maybe he could apologise one last time. 

“Not yet, I need to get as much information as I can before we come in, these questions may be unpleasant,” Kirsten said apologetically, “the two men who were shot, are they still breathing?”

“No,” Peter mumbled shaking his head. 

“Alright, ok, is anyone other than you and the two men hurt?”

“Yeah, she’s in the back, I think-”

The phone was ripped from Peter’s ear. 

“Don’t give away all my secrets Peter Pan,” Jones said with a manic laugh, before directing his attention back to the phone. “Isn’t he a darling? So willing to lay down his life for others, that’s a weird trait for a child to have nowadays, usually they’re all me, me, me.”

_ “We want you to release the hostages,”  _ Kirsten told him,  _ “release them and we’ll give you a car.” _

“No, not good enough,” Jones said, playfully aiming his gun at Peter and making  _ pew pew  _ noises under his breath. “I will give you all the hostages except Peter in return for a car, and then I will take him with me.”

_ “We can’t let you do that,”  _ Kirsten said,  _ “we need to have all of the hostages returned safely.” _

“What about trust?” Jones asked mockingly, “can’t you just accept that I’ll drop him off at a hospital somewhere?”

_ “No, I’m afraid not, we need him and the other eight in return for a car and no police presence following you.” _

“Fuck.” Jones muttered. 

“What are they offering?” One of the other men asked tentatively. 

“Nothing good.” Jones lied. 

_ “The kid has an Aunt waiting for him,”  _ Kirsten said. 

“I don't care if the kid has the fucking Queen of England out there.” Jones snapped. 

_ “They all have family out here, people who care about them and are worried.” _

“Well, they’re all going to be real sad to hear that you decided one child was worth more than eight adults.” Jones said. 

_ “That’s not what we’re saying,”  _ Kirsten said,  _ “we want  _ all  _ the hostages, and that means all nine of them. You don't get to keep one of them regardless of who that one is.” _

“I have no guarantee that you’ll let us go once I hand over the hostages.” Jones said. “Let me get away and I’ll dump the kid somewhere, I’ll even give him his phone back.”

_ “You know we can’t accept that, he’s injured.”  _

“Fuck!” Jones screamed. 

He dropped the phone and grabbed Peter by the front of his jacket, Peter felt the man behind him stagger away, releasing his grip. That was a mistake as Peter wasn't able to hold himself up any longer, his head was too woozy from blood loss and his leg too sore and weak to continue to hold him up, he fell backwards with a shout of surprise. 

Jones didn't bother to try and hold him up, instead letting him fall backwards. Peter tried to rotate in the air to catch himself but his movements were limited but his wound, instead he successfully managed to land on his wrist, a sickening crack filling the air. 

Peter lay on the floor, dazed and in pain, his vision was beginning to fade out around the edges. He tried his best to focus on what was happening but his head was filled with a high pitched ringing, what was going on? He gathered all the energy he could muster and sat up, cradling his good hand to his chest. He blinked against the harsh lights of the store bouncing off the blood stained tiles. 

“Stop,” he said, but it came out as a hoarse whisper and nobody heard him. 

The gunmen were bickering amongst themselves, showing no regard for gun safety as their guns were flying in the air and being used to gesture angrily at each other. They were completely divided and what may have been a well thought out robbery had descended completely into chaos. 

And then the shit truly hit the fan. 

The front of the store exploded into millions of tiny shards of glass. The chain that was keeping them trapped inside was lying uselessly amongst the shards still wrapped around the door handles. 

“Hey guys, I heard you were the reason my intern is late for work.” 

Peter let out a loud relieved laugh at Mr. Stark’s words as he walked through the broken glass in full Iron Man armour, before his eyes rolled back and he finally succumbed to the darkness that had been teasing the edges of his vision. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me on tumblr @[ephemeralstark](https://ephemeralstark.tumblr.com/) and let me know what you thought!! the next chapter is going to be from Tony's pov :D


	3. how lucky we are

“What do you think?” Tony asked stepping back to admire his handiwork. 

“It looks like a room,” Rhodey said with a sigh, “why does it even matter? I’m trying to talk to you about something that’s actually important here.”

“This is important,” Tony said, “maybe the bed should be under the window, what do you think F.R.I.?” 

“That would be poor Feng Shui,” the AI informed him, “the foot of the bed should not directly face the door, I recommend keeping it in the current position to create maximum comfort and make Peter’s sleep more restful.”

“Peter?” Rhodey asked, “that’s who this room is for?” 

“Of course,” Tony said as he cast a weird glance sideways at his closest friend, “who else would it be for?” 

“I don't know, I just thought he already had a room here.” 

“He uses one of the guest rooms downstairs at the moment,” Tony said, “I wanted to give him his own room as a gift this Christmas because I want him to know that he can stay whenever he wants.”

“He doesn't already know that?” Rhodey asked. “You make that kid pancakes in the morning, I didn't even think you knew there were breakfast options other than coffee.”

“I’ve tried to make it clear, but I don't think he gets it.” Tony muttered. “I mean the kid still tries to go home at two in the morning after we’ve lost track of time in the lab. He thinks he’s a burden. He doesn't even realise how much more alive this damn tower feels with him in it.”

“You know, he may be more like you than you think,” Rhodey said, “You keep implying things to him, but he’s as much of an overthinker as you are. You need to be blunt with him, just tell him that you enjoy having him here.”

“What if he feels obligated to come over?” Tony asked. “He adores his aunt and I don't want him to feel like he has to spend more time here than with her.”

“Tony, that’s not going to happen.” Rhodey said with an exasperated sigh. “The kid is lonely, his aunt usually has to work late, he’s on his own most nights, and he misses having someone around. Trust me, he loves being here as much as you love him being here. That kid idolises you.”

“Yeah,” Tony said with a grin, “he does doesn't he?”

“God,” Rhodey said shoving his shoulder, “I never thought I’d see the day where you became such a  _ dad _ .”

“I- what?” Tony spluttered out. “I’m not a dad!” 

“Sure you’re not.” Rhodey muttered rolling his eyes as he walked into the room, eyes scanning the shelves that were filled with framed pictures of Peter’s loved ones and textbooks that he was currently using at school. “Why aren’t there any pictures of you?”

“I didn't want to assume anything,” Tony muttered, as his eyes flitted over the eternal grins of Peter’s best friends and family. 

“Oh my God!” Rhodey shouted, slapping his palm to his forehead. “You’re both as hopeless as each other, that kid has you and him as his lock screen.”

“Alright, alright, no need to- wait, what?” Tony muttered as he processed what his best friend had said. “He does?” 

“He really does, how have you not noticed?” Rhodey asked. “He doesn't even keep it a secret.”

“Sir, I should inform you that Peter is due to arrive in minutes, should you want to keep his room a surprise then I would advise you greet him in the common area.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. spoke up.

“Sounds good, F.R.I., Rhodey, you coming?” Tony asked as he made his way to the door. 

“Well, I’m sure as hell not staying here on my own.” Rhodey muttered, following Tony out of the room. “Besides, the kid is fun to tease.”

“You still haven’t told him you’ve worked out he’s Spider-Man?” Tony asked with a snort. 

“Are you kidding? It’s hilarious watching him sweat and stammer out lies and excuses,” Rhodey said with a grin, “albeit, a little concerning. He really isn't good with secrets.”

“Yeah, we’re working on that one,” Tony conceded, “I’m going to install Karen on his phone, so whenever he almost gives something away a spontaneous phone call can appear.”

“Smart.” Rhodey said with a nod as they walked, after a small moment of silence he piped up again. “Sorry, what the fuck is a Karen?” 

“Oh, it’s what the kid named his suit’s AI.” Tony explained. 

“Of course you made him an AI.” Rhodey said with a laugh. “I’m telling you, Tones, you’re a dad.”

Tony’s phone started buzzing in his pocket. 

“I bet this is him telling me he’s running late,” Tony muttered as he fished in his pocket for the phone, he didn't bother checking the caller ID, there was only a handful of people with his number and only one of them could be the one calling in that moment. “Underoos! Don’t tell me… there was an armed robbery you just had to help out with on your way over?” 

“Tony? Tony Stark?” A voice that was decidedly  _ not  _ Peter’s asked. 

“Who is this and how did you get this number?” Tony asked, his entire body tensing, he felt Rhodey pause beside him and felt the concerned glance that was being cast his way.

“Uh, May. Parker. May Parker.” Peter’s aunt, Tony realised, and she sounded upset.

“Oh, how did you get this number?” he was less accusatory, but still needed to know. 

“I made Peter give it to me,” she said through sniffles, “in case of emergency.”

“Right, of course,” Tony said nodding to himself, “is there an emergency?” 

That was enough to cause her to lose the tentative hold she apparently had on her emotions as Tony’s ear was filled with sobs. 

“Calm down, calm down, it’s alright,” Tony said as soothingly as he could, but really he just wanted to know what was going on. 

“It’s not alright!” May shouted at him through her tears. 

“Ok, it’s not alright,” Tony agreed instantly, “why isn't it alright?” 

“P-Peter.” she sobbed.

Ice ran through Tony’s veins and for a moment he felt as though he had been submerged under water, Rhodey’s frantic questions and May’s heartfelt sobs sounded miles away. 

“Peter?” Tony mumbled through numb lips. 

“He- I- I don’t-” 

“Alright,” Tony said, forcing himself out of the pit he’d fallen into, she was panicking and he wasn't getting anything from her. He took a deep breath and tried to pretend it wasn't one of the most important people in his life that was seemingly in trouble, “tell me what you know.”

The sureness and authority in his voice seemed to do the trick as May let out a stuttered breath and then finally explained what was going on. 

“P-Peter, he’s caught up in a hostage situation.” May cried. 

“A hostage situation?” Tony asked. “As in Peter? Not Spider-Man?”

“N-no, Peter.” May confirmed. 

“Do we know anything?” Tony asked her, “F.R.I.D.A.Y. track Peter’s phone.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I’m outside the store at the moment, they’re trying to hack into the CCTV cameras at the moment, I- I think they’ve managed.” May said. 

“What about Peter, how’s he?” Tony asked. 

“They won’t tell me for sure, but they seem to be planning things as though he’s injured.”

“Fuck.” Tony muttered. 

“Sir, Peter is on 5th avenue, exact coordinates have been sent to your phone and programmed into your suit.” 

“Thanks F.R.I.,” Tony muttered. 

“Oh god,” May muttered with a wave of fresh sobs. “I can see him, on the cameras, it’s really him. Tony please, if you care about that boy at all, please help him.”

“I’m on my way,” Tony promised her, “and I’m bringing help.”

“Thank you, thank you.”

Tony hung up and stared at his phone for a second. 

“This goddamn kid,” he muttered, “if he gets himself murdered I’m gonna kill him.”

Tony stormed past Rhodey heading towards the window. F.R.I.D.A.Y. sensed his intentions and opened it, which was a relief because if she hadn't he would have walked through it. As he fell through the air, he saw that Rhodey had also gotten the message and his suit was forming around him as he fell. 

Tony had never been more grateful for nanotech than he was when he felt his helmet enclose his head and his vision was filled with coordinates. 

“What exactly is going on?” Rhodey’s voice filtered through his comms. 

“Peter is in trouble,” Tony said. “F.R.I., bring up news reports of the hostage situation and send them to Rhodey too.”

_ “The situation is still developing, sources say that the gunmen first entered the store approximately thirty minutes ago. It has been confirmed that there are nine hostages inside, their current condition is unknown but they are still alive according to officers. The hostages’ families have all been informed and some of them were escorted to the area by police cars. We are waiting for further developments at the moment.” _

“So, uh, Peter is in there?” Rhodey asked. 

“Naturally, where else would he be?” Tony asked. “This kid has the worst luck possible, like he warned me about it when we first met but I didn't think it wou-”

_ BANG BANG _

Tony’s flight faltered for a moment with the shock of the shots echoing around his helmet. 

_ “Breaking news! There have been two shots fired from inside the building, SWAT teams seem to be moving into position. We will now cut to live footage from the scene.” _

“F.R.I. faster.”

“You are at maximum speed, you shall arrive at your destination in approximately five minutes.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed him. 

“That’s not good enough!” Tony yelled. 

“Tony, calm down,” Rhodey said, “we’re going to get there in time.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down.” Tony snapped. “My kid… my kid is in that place.”

“He’s going to be alright,” Rhodey said. 

“How do you know? There were two shots there, how do you know that he’s going to be alright?” Tony asked. 

“Because he has to be.” Rhodey said simply.

That was all that needed to be said. They flew silently side by side, Tony couldn't help but listen to the news reporter telling the same information about the situation, he was hoping for something and nothing to happen. 

_ “This just in, Iron Man has been spotted approaching the situation.” _

“What am I? Chopped liver?” Rhodey muttered. 

“Let’s hope these goons aren’t smart enough to be watching the news in there.” Tony muttered, ignoring Rhodey’s comment. “F.R.I. scan the building.”

“Detecting eleven lifeforms in the building.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed him. “Three appear to be heavily armed at present, one of them is holding a gun to one of the hostages.”

“Great.” Tony muttered. 

“Tones, it probably isn't Peter.” Rhodey said reassuringly. 

“Life form appears to match size and stature of Peter Parker aka Spider-Man.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said. 

“Alright, it’s Peter,” Rhodey corrected, “but I doubt they’ve hurt him. He’s just a kid to them.”

“Peter is suffering from severe blood loss, a gunshot wound to the thigh, and multiple contusions and lacerations.” 

“Fuck off F.R.I.D.A.Y. I’m trying to reassure him.” Rhodey muttered under his breath.

“Prepare for descent.” Tony said, ignoring both F.R.I.D.A.Y and Rhodey. 

Tony landed first, taking a few short strides forward and aimed his repulsor at the glass storefront and doors that were so innocently containing a hellish situation. Ignoring the warnings of several heavily armed police officers he fired - that was his kid in there and no one would be stopping him from getting him out. 

Tony didn’t bother to wait for Rhodey, he walked inside the store on auto-pilot, glass crunched under his metal boots as he scanned the room for Peter. There were terrified hostages tied up in a row along the back wall - that was a relief, they wouldn't have been at risk of harm from his explosive entrance.

That was when Tony spotted his kid, lying awkwardly on the ground, half on his side and looking incredibly pale and dazed. 

“Hey guys, I heard you were the reason my intern is late for work.” Tony said loudly, hoping that no one else could hear the waver in his voice. 

Relief passed over Peter’s face, causing Tony’s heart to stutter in his chest at the absolute trust and faith the kid had in him. Of course the feeling of fondness was quickly forgotten as Peter passed out with a sharp laugh. 

“Rhodey?” Tony asked urgently, keeping his repulsors aimed at the gunmen, but desperately wanting to check on Peter. 

“I’m here, I was just talking to the cops,” Rhodey said, the crunching of glass signifying his arrival, “they’re pretty pissed at you. They said the situation was under control.”

“Really?” Tony asked sceptically as he moved forward to Peter’s side. 

“They said the men were about to hand over the hostages.” Rhodey muttered. 

One of the gunmen let out a loud snort, “I was ready to put a bullet in the smartass kid’s brain.”

“Rhodey.” Tony said tightly. 

“On it.”

The familiar sound of Rhodey’s repulsors filled the air as three perfectly aimed shots fired past Tony and hit each of the gunmen in the chest one after the other. They fell in quick succession, their weapons dropping uselessly to the floor beside their still forms. 

“A-Are they…” 

“Unconscious.” Rhodey said. “They deserve to be punished to the full extent of the law. Here, let me untie you.”

Tony zoned out his reassurances to the hostages, his attention was focused on the far too young looking boy lying on the blood stained floor. 

With a subtle press of a button, the Iron Man armour peeled away allowing him to step out. 

“F.R.I. go home.” 

The last time he’d stepped out of the suit in front of the kid his heart had almost broken, it had been after the ferry debacle and he saw Peter staggering backwards from him in his nightmares for weeks after that. Now though, Tony would have rather Peter was backing away, anything other that the bizarre stillness that he had going on. 

“Pete?” Tony’s voice broke as he said the kid’s name, swallowing tightly he cleared his throat. “Peter?” 

Only the slightest furrowing of Peter’s brow indicated that Tony was getting through to him.

“I’m sorry, buddy, this is probably going to hurt,” Tony said, as he threaded a hand under Peter’s head, ignoring the miniscule pieces of broken glass that bit his knuckles as they skimmed the floor, “I need to get you out of here.”

“Ah!” Peter called out as he was gently lifted from the ground, his good hand flying up to grip onto the front of Tony’s shirt, crumpling the material in his fist. 

“It’s alright,” Tony soothed, “I’ve got you kiddo.”

“Mis’er Star’?” Peter slurred, cracking one eye open a slither to peer up at Tony. 

“Hey, kid, fancy meeting you here.” Peter blinked at his nonchalant words. 

“Hurts,” Peter mumbled.

“What’s worst?” Tony asked. 

“M’ arm, ‘nd m’ leg.” Peter said closing his eyes and relaxing in Tony’s arms as much as he could. 

“We’ll get that seen to shortly, there’s an ambulance just outside with your name on it.” 

“No.” Peter gasped suddenly, both eyes shooting wide open. Tony could practically  _ see  _ the adrenaline covering the pain as Peter tensed in his arms. 

“No?” Tony asked, “what do you mean no? You have a hole in your leg, are you not aware of that?” 

“I can’t,” Peter whispered urgently, “DNA.”

“Relax kiddo, I’ll have S.H.I.E.L.D probably saw me arrive and planned something, besides if anything suspicious happens I can slap a giant NDA in everyone’s face before they can even say Spider.” Tony promised. 

“Don’t you mean Spider-Man?” Peter whispered. 

“Pete, come on, give me some credit here,” Tony snorted, trying to mask his concern, “do you really think I’m so slow that they would manage to get  _ two  _ words out. Like I was being generous with letting them have one, but two? Don't you have any faith in me?”

“But hospitals are expensive,” Peter continued to protest, like the idiot he was. 

“Wow, alright, I’m going to declare that you have a concussion because you surely didn't just say that to  _ me.”  _ Tony said.

“Hmm,” Peter sighed out in response, all of his worries seemingly soothed as his eyes fluttered shut. 

Tony glanced down at him, he was far too young and he looked even younger with blood glaring out brightly against too pale skin. Tony had wanted revenge before, he had wanted to hurt people, but he had never thought he would ever feel so desperate to inflict maximum suffering upon another human being. He wanted to hear them scream and beg for mercy and just when they thought they couldn't go on, he would leave them to lie there, suffering and struggling. 

And he would have done it all for the boy in his arms. 

Peter. 

The exact reason he wouldn't do any of that, because Peter was his tether to humanity and he would be sitting at his bedside while he healed and the police dealt with the monsters who had harmed his kid. 

“Tony! Tony!” A woman shouted. “Let me past, that’s my kid!”

May Parker was angrily standing up to a heavily armed and kitted out police officer, cursing at him and looking about ready to kick him in the shins to get to Tony and Peter. 

“May!” Tony called out. “Let her through, this is her nephew.” 

May looked like she wanted to spit another curse at the officer but instead made her way frantically towards the pair. She looked worn out, old and new streaks of tears covered her cheeks and her nails were bitten to the point of bleeding. 

“Peter? Petey, baby, it’s me.” May murmured, reaching a shaking hand out to stroke his hair. 

“Hey,” Peter mumbled without opening his eyes. “Wha’ ‘bout work?” 

May barked out a tearful laugh, pressing her free hand to her mouth to contain her emotions before replying, “don’t worry about work. You are way more important than any job.”

“Place him on the stretcher please, Sir,” a woman said as two paramedics appeared beside the trio.

“This is Peter,” Tony said as he laid Peter on their stretcher, “he’s… he’s fifteen, he’s been shot in the leg, his right arm appears broken, and he’s been fairly beat up by those men..”

May stifled a sob as he rattled out the injuries that F.R.I.D.A.Y. had detected on her scan. 

The paramedics quickly got Peter loaded into the van and with a tiny bit of sweet talking agreed for both Tony and May to escort him. He watched through glazed eyes as one of them placed monitoring on the kid and gained IV access while the other jumped in the front and started to drive - sirens blaring. 

“Does he have any allergies?” The paramedics asked. 

May shook her head, “no drug ones, just don't give him a peppermint candy cane,” she said quietly. 

“No worries, we’re generally strawberry lollipop people in this van.” 

“What are you giving him?” Tony asked. 

“This,” the paramedic said holding up a syringe of clear liquid, “is morphine, we want to get that pain under control.”

“Hey, Peter?” the paramedic said, “can you open your eyes for me?”

He complied, slowly, as though the action was a huge effort. 

“There he is,” she said gently, “now Peter, are you still in pain?”

Peter shook his head, the movement making him wince, “‘m ok,” he lied. 

“C’mon kiddo, this lovely paramedic can give you the good stuff, there’s no reason for you to be in pain.” Tony said gently. 

Peter’s eyes closed for a moment before flashing over to Tony. 

“Hey, Mis’er Star’, y’ur still here.” Peter commented with a dopey grin. 

“Of course I am kiddo, where else would I go? Now kiddo, are you still sore?” Tony asked. 

“Jus’ a little,” Peter mumbled, “no big deal.”

“C’mon sweetie, let’s give you some more analgesia,” the paramedic said. 

“Thank you,” May spoke up quietly, it took Tony a moment to realise that she was looking at him and not the paramedic. 

“What?” 

“I said thank you,” May repeated, wiping her eyes and giving him a weak smile, “you didn't have to come, in fact you didn't even have to answer the phone earlier. I was surprised that you did actually, I would’ve figured that Tony Stark would have ignored any unknown numbers.” 

“Actually, I didn't even check the caller ID,” Tony admitted guiltily, “I just assumed it was Peter calling, but I wouldn't have done anything differently. I couldn't have left him in there.”

“No, I’m not saying you could have, or would have, I’m just…” she trailed off for a moment and sighed. “I didn't think you were good for him at first, but I’ve seen him grow and become more confident with your guidance. My kid adores you, Tony, and I’m sorry that I didn't think you were a good influence on him.”

“I wasn't.” Tony said. “Not at first, I made mistakes and probably made him hate me a little at first, but he’s changed me. At least, Pepper and Rhodey seem to think so.”

“He’s good at bringing out the best in people.” May said with a smile.

“I don't know about that,” Tony muttered, “I did just ditch Rhodey at the scene of a crime.”

“War machine was there?” Peter asked, Tony had thought he’d fallen asleep under the influence of the morphine he’d been given. 

“Yeah, kid, he was,” Tony said. 

“Huh,” Peter frowned to himself, “didn’ see him.” 

“That’s alright, I’ll keep your secret.” Tony promised. “We won’t tell Rhodey how much I outshine him.”

Peter let out a breathy laugh.

“You can rest now, kid, you’re safe.” Tony whispered, too quietly for anyone else to hear. 

There was nothing left to be said, Tony plucked his phone out of his pocket. He had a fair few missed calls and a number of unopened texts. 

_ Pepper: Tony??  _

_ Pepper: Tony? What’s going on? I saw you appear at that situation on the news  _

_ Pepper: Is that Peter?  _

_ Pepper: I swear to god Tony you better answer me. _

_ Rhodey: I’m fine btw thanks for checking in  _

_ Rhodey: jk hows the kid?  _

_ Pepper: What is going on?  _

_ Tony: Sorry Pep, in the ambulance with the kid and his aunt right now, he’s hurt but stable, I don't really have any more information yet.  _

_ Tony: thanks for your help man, we’re in the ambulance, he’s stable and talking.  _

“Righty-o, we are arriving,” 

When the doors opened to the outside world, Tony saw surprise flash across May’s face. 

“Tony this isn't the hospital?” May said questioningly as she climbed out of the van. “What’s going on?”

“We’re at the Tower,” Tony said as though it should have been obvious, which it should have been considering the giant towering tower that towered above them. 

“I can see that,” May snapped, “but why?” 

“We can’t take Peter to a normal hospital,” one of the paramedics said as the flashed a S.H.I.E.L.D. badge at May, “so we brought him here where he can be treated with state of the art equipment by people who won’t be an exposure risk.”

“Did you know about this?” May asked Tony.

“I assumed S..H.I.E.L.D. would be prepared as soon as they saw me and Rhodey fly into that building,” Tony said, “I just wasn't sure if they would fill a normal hospital with their staff or find a way to get us to the Med Bay at the tower.”

“Can we discuss this later?” the other Paramedic-Agent asked as she climbed out of the driver’s seat and joined them at Peter’s side.

Carefully they wheeled him into the elevator and then out into the Med Bay where an entire team was on standby. 

"Alright," a very familiar doctor said as she stepped in front of everyone else, ready to bark out her orders.

"Cho?"

"Stark, fancy seeing you here," she said, before turning to Peter and giving him a tight smile. "Right, Peter we need to get you off that stretcher and onto my trolley here. This might hurt but the good news is once you’re there the movement will be minimal.”

“Alright,” Peter grunted out, gritting his teeth to brace himself for the pain.

“Right, you two,” Dr. Cho motioned at Tony and May, “out of the way. Everyone else, gather round, on my cue we move him.”

Tony gently pulled May out of the way by her shoulders, watching carefully as Cho gave the order to slide Peter from the stretcher onto the trolley.

A strangled scream escaped his throat and Tony held his breath until he was sure that Peter’s posture had started to relax. 

“Ok, good, now clear some space,” Dr. Cho ordered, “I hope you’re not overly fond of those jeans Peter, because I think we’re going to have to cut them off to save you a lot of pain.”

“I can handle it.” Peter grunted. 

“I’d really rather not put you through that,” Dr. Cho said. 

“But, they’re my jeans.”

“We can get you new ones, sweetie,” May said from the sidelines, “besides, I have no idea how I’m going to get all that blood out of them.”

“Worth a shot,” Peter said, “they’re expensive.”

“Cut them.” Tony said curtly. “I’ll replace them.”

He wasn't going to stand by and watch Peter scream in agony with inadequate pain control because he wanted to save some dollars on jeans, hell, Tony would buy the kid Levis if he asked. The brand, not just a pair of jeans. 

Scissors sliced through material and Tony watched as the dark stained blue was pulled away to reveal red stained skin and a weeping wound. While Dr. Cho examined the wound another doctor was administering pain medications through Peter’s cannula. 

“Alright, good, there’s an entry wound and an exit one,” Dr. Cho said, “that’s good, we won’t need to worry about digging a bullet out of you, however I do still want an X-Ray, because of the location of the wound I want to make sure that it hasn’t caused any damage to the bone.”

"And if it has?" Peter asked hoarsely.

"We'll deal with it," Dr. Cho said reassuringly, "besides, we need to do a scan of that arm too. Might as well do them both in one go."

"Alright," Peter said with a nod as he blinked slowly.

"Is he actually taking any of this in?" Tony asked as he moved closer to stare into Peter's eyes, his pupils were tiny.

"His metabolism is powering through the painkillers at a faster rate than we thought," Dr. Cho explained, "we've given him a fair amount of morphine to try and tide him over but the sooner we deal with his arm and leg, the sooner we can get the pain under control."

"Alright," Tony murmured, "you hear that Pete?” 

“Hmm?” Peter hummed as he looked up at Tony with inquisitive eyes. 

“You’re gonna be alright.” 

“Oh,” Peter mumbled, “suppose so.”

“No, I know so.” Tony said, May smiled and ran a hand through Peter’s curls as he sleepily blinked at the ceiling. 

“I want to get a blood transfusion started before we get the portable X-Ray machine and radiographers through here,” Dr. Cho said. 

“Will the blood affect his… y’know,” May skittered her free hand that wasn’t stroking Peter’s hair across the pillow, mimicking a spider.

“Abilities?” Dr. Cho asked, May nodded. “We have a supply of his own blood. We wouldn't know the answer to your question since  _ someone  _ has his AI guarding it at every moment.” 

“You don't need to know that,” Tony said, “all you need his blood for is a situation like this. We don't want to risk Spidey’s safety. Hands off the blood unless it’s transfusing  _ him _ .”

“‘m Spider?” Peter asked, his brows furrowing in adorable confusion. 

“Yeah, baby, you’re an amazing little spider,” May said. 

“Bu’ I don’ like spiders.” Peter stated. “Too leggy.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t grow any more legs than necessary.” Tony said. 

“Oh, ‘kay.” Peter mumbled before his eyes suddenly widened. “ How many’s necessary?” 

Tony couldn't help but let out a loud laugh that was quickly joined by May’s giggle. Poor Peter seemed genuinely concerned that he didn't have enough legs, he kept mouthing ‘one, two’ over and over as he pointed at each leg with his good hand. 

“Right,” Cho muttered, “Peter?” 

“Hey! That’s me!” Peter said, trying to sit up but being gently pushed back down by Dr. Cho. 

“I’m aware,” Dr. Cho told him, “now we need to take some pictures of your arm and leg using a portable X-Ray machine, which means I’m going to need you to stay as still as possible so we can get the most accurate images possible.”

“‘kay,” Peter agreed. 

After a few minutes of whirring and Peter impersonating a statue, Dr. Cho pulled up some images on the screens. 

“So, his leg is fine,” Dr. Cho informed them, “we’ll clean the wound and patch it up, it’ll need to be redone daily until it heals, but I think that’ll only take about a week given his healing factor. His arm on the other hand-” Dr. Cho swiped the screen to show a different scan “-is very much broken.”

“Will he need an operation?” Tony asked. “We haven’t synthesised an anaesthetic that will work with his metabolism yet.”

“No, we will need to pull it into place though and apply a plaster cast.” 

“But,” Tony frowned, “we haven’t got strong enough pain meds for his metabolism.”

“Captain America-”

“We’ve discussed this before, they’re enhancements have been caused by completely different things, there’s no way of knowing how Roger’s drugs will affect his body.”

“It’s a risk,” Dr. Cho agreed. 

“Yeah, not one I’m willing to take,” Tony argued. 

“We could give him a reduced amount,” Dr. Cho said, “and take it slowly, see how it affects him.”

“Now isn't the time to be experimenting.” Tony argued. 

“Now is exactly the time.” 

“No it-”

“Guys!” May interrupted. “Stop arguing, let’s ask Peter what he thinks.”

“No more,” Peter said, “feel weird. Woozy.” 

Tony and May were asked to leave the room while the cast was done, Tony was secretly glad as Peter was going to be in severe pain and he wasn't sure how he was going to watch that happen while knowing that there was nothing he could do to help. 

In fact, Tony didn't think he would ever forget the screams that echoed through the corridors, or the sobs that seemed to follow when Peter couldn't even bring himself to scream any longer. 

By the time they were invited back inside, Peter was silent. In fact, he looked as though he was sleeping, no one said it but everyone knew he wasn't. The pain must have been too much. 

On a brighter note, colour appeared to be slowly returning to his face as the transfusion worked it’s magic. Tony and May sat with him in silence for an immeasurable amount of time. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter said speaking up for the first time in a while, Tony jumped, he hadn’t even realised the kid had woken up. He was exhausted but his speech was no longer slurred by drugs. 

“What for?” May asked him.

“I shouldn't have been in there,” Peter murmured tiredly. 

“It’s not your fault,” May said instantly, “but out of curiosity, why were you in  _ that  _ store?”

“It was an accident,” Peter said, “I didn't mean to go into that store.” 

“No?” 

“I was-” Peter broke off looking at Tony sheepishly, “-uh, nevermind.”

“No, continue,” May said, “what were you doing?” 

“I was looking for a Christmas gift for Mr. Stark.” Peter admitted and Tony felt a crushing guilt crashing down on his shoulders.

“You were in there because of me?” He asked. 

“Hey, no,” May said, “neither of you two are to blame.”

“Yeah, Mr. Stark, it was my choice,” Peter said, “you couldn't have stopped me.”

“Where on Earth did you get the money from?” May wondered. 

“I uh- I saved some lunch money?” 

“You what?” Tony asked suddenly. “Underoos? Please tell me that’s not true?” 

“What? It’s not that bad.” 

“Pete, that money is for food and you have an enhanced metabolism.” Tony stated very seriously. “I don't ever want to hear about you starving yourself to buy me something.”

“Sorry,” Peter mumbled, “I just wanted to get you something for Christmas.”

“You know what I want?” Tony asked, waiting for Peter’s eyes to meet his before he continued. “You. In one piece. You’re pretty important to me and your Aunt, we’d rather just have you happy and healthy than something materialistic.”

May gave Tony an encouraging smile, he took that as a cue to continue talking. 

“I know you think it’s your job to take the brunt of the beatings in any situation, and that you think you’re letting down families and loved ones of people if you don't save them, but remember that we both love you and want you home safe too.” Tony said. “I don't just design an AI for anyone you know? And an AI as helpful as Karen? Normally I would have made her a million times more sassy and a billion times less helpful, because that's more fun, but I wanted you to be safe.”

“Really?” Peter asked. 

“Really kiddo,” Tony said. 

**One week later**

_ Thump  _

_ …  _

_ Thump thump  _

_ …  _

_ Thump thump THUMP _

“Peter! Stop that right now!” Tony shouted at the top of his voice. 

“Hey, Mr. Stark look,” Peter said cheerfully from his spot on the ceiling, “Mr. Rhodes told me your Christmas decorations kept falling down so I’m helping. Also, did you know he knows I’m Spider-Man? I was worried for nothing!” 

Tony cast a withering look at Rhodey who just shrugged and muttered, “he’s sticky,” like that was a reasonable excuse.

“Underoos, you were told no wall climbing until your leg is healed and your cast is off.” Tony sighed. “I don’t think Cho meant stick to the ceiling and use your cast as a  _ hammer.” _

“My leg is fine, there’s a very cool scar on it now, but all healed and painless,” Peter mumbled, “and I’m pretty sure my arm is fine too, at least I’m finding some use for the damn cast.” 

“There’s plaster all over the carpet.” Tony said raising an eyebrow. “You’re damaging the thing”

“I’m supplying you with free faux snow,” Peter contradicted, “you might be a billionaire Mr. Stark, but it’s never too late to learn how to be frugal.”

“Get down from there!” Tony said. “If you don’t I’ll assume you’re fit enough to be poked down with a broom.”

“Don’t worry kid,” Rhodey said, “he doesn't own a broom.”

“Shut up,” Tony grumbled, “fine, come down and I’ll show you your Christmas present early.” 

“I’m sold.” Peter declared dropping straight to the floor from the ceiling, landing harshly on both feet. “Sorry, Mr. Rhodes.”

“God, kid, can you just pretend to humour me until you get the all clear from the medical professionals?” Tony pleaded. 

“Sure thing, Mr. Stark.” Peter said as though he had no intention of doing so. 

“I’m going grey, and it’s all your fault.” 

“Can I add that to my Wikipedia page?” Peter asked. “Under trivia? Or maybe abilities.”

“You have a Wikipedia page?” Tony asked. 

“Well Spider-Man does,” Peter said with a shrug, “it even has a section for theories on who I am, but don’t worry, none of them are called Peter.”

“Underoos, all I do is worry.” 

“Pfft,” Peter scoffed, “I bet you gave Pepper more grey hairs than I’ve given you.”

“Yeah and I never hear the end of it.” Tony muttered. “Now, through that door and you shall see your gift.”

Tony watched as Peter slowly opened the door and walked through. 

Silence. 

It was unusual for the kid to be so quiet, what did that mean? Did he hate it? Was it dumb? What if he didn't want to stay there? Maybe Tony had overstepped his boundaries. 

“Pete?” 

“This is for me?” Peter asked quietly. 

“Yeah, your very own room here for your use  _ whenever  _ you want,” Tony said walking into the room behind Peter who was holding something. 

Upon further observations he found that it was the framed picture that Rhodey had taken a few days ago when Peter and Tony had passed out on the sofa together watching movies. Both of them had their mouths wide open and Peter had drooled a little on Tony’s jumper, but they looked comfortable and happy. 

Peter launched himself at Tony, photo still in hand, and hugged him tighter than Tony had ever been hugged before. 

“Thank you, Tony,” he whispered. 

“Merry Christmas, Peter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come find me on tumblr @[ephemeralstark](https://ephemeralstark.tumblr.com/) and let me know what you thought! i also accept prompts :D 
> 
> thank you for reading friends :D
> 
> i was thinking about writing a few follow up one shots, maybe nightmares or panic attacks or smth idk let me know if u want

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I hope you enjoyed this fic! Let me know what you thought and if you're keen for the next 2 parts! 
> 
> Come follow me on tumblr @[ephemeralstark](https://ephemeralstark.tumblr.com/) and drop me a message/ask


End file.
